“I’ve been doing fine up until now. And it’s not just caffeine; I’m also fueled by spite.”
“Well, you should still hydrate. It makes the spite more effective.”
“Is that a scientific fact?”
“Mmhmm. It was in the journal of shut the fuck up and eat your breakfast.”
“Never heard of it,” she deadpans.
We eat in relative silence, and Ruby makes a show of finishing her entire bottle of water with an exaggerated, “Ahh, so refreshing.” She refills her coffee mug with a smirk on her infuriatingly beautiful face and walks over to the sofa, where she picks up her guitar, strumming out a simple upbeat tune. Her voice floats in a moment later.
“I know why they give men pockets,
It’s where they keep the audacity.
To tell women how to live and act and behave,
Man, I wish I could tell them to just
Shut up and be pretty.
Fuckmen,
Fuck the patriarchy,
And the way that they breathe,
And the shit they believe,
Fuck men,
Fuck inequality,
Overt misogyny
And their complicity
In systems keeping us weak
Fuuuuck meeeeeeen.”
She draws out the last syllable, furiously strumming the same chord over and over to a dramatic crescendo.
I shake my head. “Feel better about yourself?”
She beams at me from across the room. “I do, actually.”
“Not bad. Could use a bridge.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the slight tilt of her lips when she turns back to her guitar.
I sip my coffee and watch her as she plays a more somber tune. She pauses and slides a notepad across the table, scribbling something before she starts up again. Even from here, I can see how her eyes light up when she plays.
She’s in her element, and it’s a goddamn sight to behold.
I groan when she places the pen between her soft lips, imagining what it would be like to have that mouth on me instead.
Fucking hell.
